


Hurts like hell

by HuepfKaese



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Blood and Wine (The Witcher 3 DLC) Spoilers, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Headcanon, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Nightmares, i had so many feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-27 01:14:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15013487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HuepfKaese/pseuds/HuepfKaese
Summary: A short headcanon conversation between Regis and Geralt after they meet at Mère-Lachaiselongue Cemetery where Regis learns about the untimely death of Cirilla and the emotional trauma it has left Geralt in.(I never had the heart to actually play through the game and let Ciri die and dont know how the conversation follows canonical in Blood and wine, this is just my own interpretation)





	Hurts like hell

**Author's Note:**

> I was hit by many feelign after loosing a pet (RIP Krümel) and listening to Fleurie's song Hurts like hell on repeat. So I came up with something to put my feeling into more constructively than drawing or getting sadder by listenign to depressing music. Hope you enjoy this little conversation~

After having been forced to deal with Archepores, Kikimores and Gods-know what in the dusty catacombs beneath the little crypt in Mère-Lachaiselongue Cemetery, Geralt tore through a wall with one of his signs, to be greeted by Regis, standing atop a ledge, dimly illuminated by a few sparse torches. His supreior senses must have let him know Geralt was coming long before even the Kikimores did. 

After Geralt complained to the vampire about not leaving the door unlocked and stating how very cliché his choice of residence was, both men started deducing a plan to lure out Dettlaff, who was still at large and a possible threat to yet another unfortunate soul. 

Regis was just about to go on a lengthy lecture about magic not having effects on vampires, when Geralt gingerly placed the severed Hand he had acquired on the table in front of them. He apparently startled Regis a bit, since his usual calm expression turned a bit eerie upon seeing the severed limb. 

“Where ever did you get that?” 

Geralt meanwhile had placed himself on the chair near the stairs, his torso turned just enough to still be able to look at Regis. 

“Off one of the beasts victims, found by a bend in the river. Body was chopped, in pieces. Three of those pieces were hands.”

Regis gently picked up the bloodied hand, while Geralt continued with his explanation. 

“Hand with the ring seemed the odd one out. A bruxa had taken an interest in it.” 

The witcher watched closely as his friend brought the palm to his nose, taking in the scent. Which was apparently strong enough to make the vampire roll his head back, closing his eyes in a haunting display. 

After having regained some control, Regis took the ring from one of the fingers and placed the hand back on the table, to remain there. 

“It's Dettalff's hand, without a doubt. It will do splendidly.” Regis sounded rather relieved. A tone one wouldn’t necessarily expect from someone who had just been presented a severed limb.

Geralt asked about the ring, Regis' plan for the hand and also, if he couldn’t just summon Dettlaff, since both of them were higher vampires and there had to be some way.

After having breached the subject of different occipital lobe stimuli, Regis grabbed a bottle out of a nearby wine rack, all the while listening to Geralt rattle of hallucinogenic poisons, all of which were rather hard to come by. 

“Given that we lack the time to sleuth this out ourselves, permit me to summon some help.” the vampire said cryptically, while making his way towards the crypts exit. 

\-------------------- 

Once outside, Geralt watched his friend saunter towards a tombstone, on which a raven was perched. The witcher was a bit surprised to see the bird not even twitch as the vampire casually approached it.

Geralt could see Regis lips moving as he seemingly talked to the black feathered creature, but no sound made it to his ears. 

Once Regis was done “talking” to the raven, it flew off. As it passed a tree several of its brethren joined it, which had been completely hidden from vision before. Their dark plumage had let them melt into the various shadows cast by the trees leaves. 

“Was was that?” 

“A raven.”

Geralt was close to making a dry remark about the vampires answer as Regis closed the distance to him, all the while explaining further.

“Rather a common sight at this latitude. Very intelligent fowl. I asked him to look for the creature you mentioned. Him and his brethren. Perhaps they'll find one in the area. And I would hazard that a flock of ravens any said creature faster than a solitary witcher would- with all due respects to your skills my friend.” 

Geralt looked after the birds, but before he could focus on anything else, a sloshing sound brought his gaze back to the vampire, who held a small glass bottle in his gloved hand. 

He didn’t quite catch all his friend said besides “snifter of mandrake” which was all he needed to hear. 

The two men sat down on tombs facing each other, which might have been a bit disrespectful, but neither of them gave it much thought. It wasn’t like the dead were going to complain (much) 

Regis shook the bottle a bit, bringing forth more sloshing. 

“Sadly this is but a weak diffusion rather than a proper distillate.” 

Geralt scoffed “Even better. I remember your mandrake hooch. Made people say thigns they'd have rather kept to themselves.”

A little twinkle in the vampires eyes told Geralt that he probably should have worded that answer a bit different. 

“Now what could Geralt of Rivia prefer to keep to himself?” 

“So, think you've set a nice little trap for me? Sorry. Wanna get me to confess? Gonna have to try harder.” 

Regis handed Geralt the bottle, which he gladly took. 

The vampire was now leaning back, supporting part of his weight on his hands. He looked relaxed. He chuckled. 

“I love a challenge! In that case my ears are cocked – what must I do?” 

From that point on, Geralt spent some time questioning Regis about various things.  
-Whats regeneration like?  
-How was he handling abstinence?  
-What's it like being dead 

The moonshine was half empty when Geralt asked something else

“Curious what you did after you were... reborn.” It was less of a question and more a statement, one which Regis happily answered.

“as I'm sure you can surmise, at first I was thoroughly absorbed with recovering. As it is, I've still not recovered completely. Yet I was so weak the first year that I could not stand nor move on my own.”

Geralt listened carefully as his friend praised Dettlaff for showing such patience in him. Maybe Dettlaff indeed was no monster, but simply a man stuck in trouble greater than him...

Regis went on the tell him about the short time he'd been in his one time home of Dillingen, where he lived as healer and surgeon. 

“Rebirth make you sentimental?” Geralt poked fun at his friend.

“Perhaps a dash.” The vampire eyed Geralts boots. “But what of you? Where have you been? Ever find your Cirilla?” 

At Ciris mention Geralt felt a wound tearing back open in his chest. His gaze left the vampire and drifted off into nothing. He didn’t even notice Regis extending the bottle to him. 

“Geralt?” 

Regis voice brought the witcher back into the present and he locked eyes with his friend, whose eyes held curiosity. 

“Are you alright my friend?”  
The was genuine concern in the vampires voice. Geralt, not wanting to give in to his feeling , even as muted as they were forced himself to take a swig of the mandrake brew. His voice still sounded strained as he answered.

“Yeah, I'm good. Back then... yeah I found her. But we parted again soon after. And when the time was ripe, she came back. Defeated the wild hunt together but...” 

Geralt swallowed hard. He let his hands sink between his knees, his entire body hunching over, as if he was trying to make himself seem smaller. He shut his eyes, feeling a strange wetness in them. His lips pursed as the pain shot back into his heart.

His Ciri, his little Ciri...

Regis was shocked by his friends sudden behavior. He hoped it wasn’t what he thought it was. A comforting hand was placed on Geralts shoulder, which prompted him to look back up into the worried face of Regis.

“Geralt I'm so...Is Ciri..?” 

Geralt pushed himself back into an upwards position, running his hand over his face once

“No. no. Please dont.” 

Geralts voice was rough, hurt. His brows furled, he looked into the vampires dark eyes. 

Regis had never seen his friend quite like this before. He did not know if witcher were able to cry, but he did not need tears to see just how deeply wounded Geralt was. 

They remained in silence for a while before Geralt inhaled deeply. 

“Ciri.. she set out to stop the white frost.” 

Regis attentively sat beside the witcher, whose gaze was far away. 

“She did stop it. But she paid the ultimate price. She-”

Regis felt Geralts body shiver as he once again inhaled, this time a bit broken.

“She shouldn't have.. she was only a child. I couldn't protect her she.. It was my fault. I should not have- I should-” 

The words were wrung from Geralts mouth as he was embraced by Regis. The vampire cool against his body. Geralt was tense for a moment, before going limb, dropping his face to Regis shoulder.

Regis rocked back and forth slowly as the witcher shuddered with every breath. No tears were shed, but the hurt and sorrow were unbearable. 

Geralt felt as if an ice spear had pierced his very existence. His daughter was gone. Forever. Just after having gotten her back and now she was simply.. gone.

They had had a chance! The wild hunt was defeated, Ciri could have lived along life! But it was taken from her. Taken from Geralt, from Yennefer. 

After a while of comforting the witcher, he fell asleep. Regis placed him softly on the sarcophagus lid whilst he watched over him. His friend was hurt. And he had no bandages to fix it this time. 

Geralt had a dream. A dark abyss surrounding him. He stood on a small platform, he looked down to see a swallow painted on the tiles. Suddenly a shudder wrecked the earth and the tiles darkened in colour. The white turning brown before ultimately crumbling right from underneath Geralts feet. He fell for what felt like an eternity. Then he hit the waves of the dark water beneath. He didn’t fight it as he sank, black, tainted water entering his lungs as he slowly sank. Deeper and deeper and suddenly.. there was nothing at all. No sound , no smells, no feelings. 

Nothing.


End file.
